


Swimming Isn't Even a Real Sport

by tommygirl



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Established Relationship, Jealousy, M/M, Possessive Behavior
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-04
Updated: 2011-04-04
Packaged: 2017-10-17 14:18:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/177743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tommygirl/pseuds/tommygirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Day Four - Jealousy & Possessiveness - of drabble-a-thon.  Jared doesn't like thinking about Jensen with anyone else.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swimming Isn't Even a Real Sport

Jared stretched out on the couch, yawning loudly, in hopes that Jensen would get the hint and they could head to bed. Unfortunately, like the past few nights at home, Jensen’s attention was glued to the television screen as he cheered on Michael-fucking-Phelps to Olympic glory. Jared tried to point out that the dude couldn’t hear him and explain how stupid swimming was, but Jensen simply shrugged without even looking away from the coverage.

“Jen, c’mon man, this is stupid.”

Jensen swatted at him and said, “You can go to bed. I want to watch this."

"But why? It's not even a real sport. Anyone can fucking _swim_."

Jensen shot him an incredulous look and said, "No, they can't, and definitely not as fast or often as these guys. And this is _history_. Michael Phelps could become the greatest Olympian ever."

"And I should care because?"

"You don't have to, but I do. It’s his last race and I know how badly he wants this and I bet he’s freaking out.”

“You know? How would you _know_?” Jared arched an eyebrow.

“Well, uh, you know what I mean,” Jensen replied and Jared noticed that his eyes moved to the floor and his face flushed.

“Oh my god. Is there anyone in this entire country that you haven’t had sex with?”

“I didn’t have sex with Michael Phelps. We just started talking at some party about four years ago and occasionally keep in touch.”

“You totally had sex with him!"

"Jared..."

"That doesn't explain the keeping in touch though. Why would you keep in touch with him? What are you? Best friends? And why didn't I know about this before now?” Jared replied. He stood up so that he could properly hover over Jensen, making sure that he understood how fucking pissed Jared was. Not that he really had a reason to be angry. Logically, he knew that. Logically, he knew Jensen had this whole life before him and it didn’t really matter.

Except it damn well did when Jensen was bringing it into _their_ life. And yeah, Jared had never been very good at sharing.

Jensen stared at him in that way that always got under Jared's skin and said, “Jesus Jared, you need to calm down. It’s nothing.”

“So sorry, am I blocking your view of your boyfriend?” Jared asked, purposefully moving his entire body until he was blocking the television.

Jensen rolled his eyes – pissing Jared off more – and said, “You’re insane.”

“Do you want to have sex with him?”

“I bet he wouldn’t make me deal with this shit, but no, I don’t want to have sex with him. And he’s not particularly interested in me that way,” Jensen replied, still way too calm for Jared’s liking.

“So what’s this obsession with swimming? Masturbation material?”

Jensen laughed, fists-gripping-the-couch laughs, and managed, “You’re such a fucking girl.”

“I hate you. I hate you and I hate swimming.”

“Can I help it if I have a thing for tall, lanky freaks of nature?” Jensen replied. He reached out and grabbed Jared’s hand.

The simple connection was enough to have Jared moving until he was straddling Jensen. His hands roamed up and down Jensen’s chest and Jared replied, “You’re mine.”

“You’re the only one who doubts it, asshole.”

Jared nodded, a small smile forming at the corners of his mouth, before he kissed Jensen. He found he was much better at expressing everything he felt – passion, love, insecurity – better with a single kiss than any amount of words.

Jensen always seemed to hear him better that way, too. Jensen’s hand clasped the back of Jared’s neck, his thumb stroking the skin there, deepening the kiss. As they pulled away, Jensen replied, “He’s a friend that I met at a party where neither of us really wanted to be. We were two incredibly uncomfortable losers chatting about football.”

Jared nodded again and said, “It’s fine, but I still hate swimming.”


End file.
